


A Road to Peace

by archangelkoriel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Modern Girl in Thedas, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-21 08:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16572890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelkoriel/pseuds/archangelkoriel
Summary: Twenty-four year old Mirosława Zieliński isn't certain of the events that landed her in Thedas a whole five years before the Fifth Blight, though she does mourn the fact it will be fifteen years before she can meet half the cast of Inquisition. But, at the very least, it at least gives her time to plan, plot, and blend in. Now she just has to learn how to survive in a land that seems out to kill everyone. Oh, and figure outhowshe got here in the first place.She's so screwed.Starts pre-Origins and will slowly work up to Inquisition. Bit of an indulgence fic idea that wouldn't leave me alone. Tags will update as things develop...because I have no idea what I am doing. Likely will remain drabble-ish because I am weak. It's been awhile.





	1. Into the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance for everything and anything about this.  
> The things you do for fun...

### Into the Woods

#####  _Or so the story goes._

It is cold- colder than she would like, and colder still than it should be for sleep. Mirosława hated being cold. Even worse so when the lull of sleep dangled just between the stages of awareness and total bliss. She could tell it was early morning, could smell it in the crispness of the air, dew-sweet, and clear as the sun just began its ascent to the heavens. Could hear it in the chattering, sweet singing song of the birds as they began their day. The pull to awareness was slow, her breasts lifting as her lungs drunk deeply of further scents- soil, rich with the decay of plants and of trees. Her mind pulled faster then, not quite knowing, but still knowing that something was off. Wrong scents. Wrong sensations. She should not feel air against skin, nipples pebbled against the cold even as goosebumps grew across her flesh like the scales of a lizard. Should not feel cold, damp soil beneath her back with the uncomfortable prick of small stones, and other debris that pressed into her; even as her body shivered violently and curled into itself for protection against the sudden realization that she was chilled to the bone. 

Mirosława was now all too aware now to slip back into sleep. A spike of adrenaline cleared the fog from her mind in an instant. **PanicConfusionDangerAlertBeAware!** Her body stilled, breath held still in her chest while every facet of her mind turned outward through her senses. Ears became eyes in an instant, acting as her guide as she extended her hearing about her with methodical precision. A quick breath. She waited. And waited. Scanning. There was only the forest. She did not relax. Mirosława slid her eyes open, careful to keep them half-mast as they scanned what little she could see from her peripherals. Still nothing. She still did not relax. Ever so slowly she drew to a seated position, body sliding as soundless as she could manage against the ground. It was thankfully, not too hard to manage. Behind her was the base of a tree, its roots threading the earth just beside her a welcome presence- enough for her to scoot further into its embrace to protect her back. Moderately safe now. Ish.

Despite the small respite, her eyes kept to their scanning- even as her face twisted into a pained grimace at the rough scraping of bark against too soft skin. Instinct was icy sharp in her brain. Wary it said, watched. She did not feel alone in these woods. Not even when tree branches proved empty. (Always look up- people always forget to look up.) A steady breath. Her body loosened, when the had tensed so was lost to her, but it did not relax. All the better to move from you, my dear, she thought with an internal morbid chuckle. The play on Little Red Riding Hood’s Big Bad Wolf was sounding dangerously apt at the moment. Alone, in a forest, away from any visible roads. Naked. Wary. Did that make her the girl, or the wolf? 

She did not know why she was either of those things.  
She could not remember the reason.

Her brow furrowed deeper.

_Why could she not remember?_


	2. Naked Wandering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little awkward for Mirosława.

### Naked Wandering

##### Where in things get awkward. Mostly.

Waiting in near silence for something, or someone to appear could only last as long as her patience. Patience that was usually long held...except for the small problem of Mirosława not knowing if she should be waiting. An age seemed to pass before she felt comfortable enough to uncurl her limbs, joints stiff and aching in protest of the rough treatment that only came from the cold. Being naked in the open made standing up awkward, forcing her to breathe deeply before squaring her shoulders and stepping away from the shelter of her tree. (Pine, she noted idly, tucking away the thought for later. It would be useful.) “Right,” She croaked, or rather attempted to. A dry throat with a tongue made of cotton did not talking make. It made her throat ache. “Water first. Fire. Food. Shelter. Maybe clothing. Then wait.” Wait to be found. Survive. And never lose hope that someone was looking for her. Simple. Mirosława dug her toes into the rich soil of the forest floor, then started walking.

She walked for what seemed like hours. Hours with nothing but the sound of the forest around her, life marching on regardless of her state of being. Nothing but her, the trees, the birds, and random fern like plants scattered everywhere. They were a good sign- or at least she would consider them a plus. Ferns liked rainy areas, and rainy areas meant water had to be somewhere. She just had to find it. So she walked. And then walked some more. Pee breaks were swiftly wiped from her mind, that mortification she could do without. The air was warmer when she finally stopped to rest, the sun now higher in its path across the sky. Dehydration was becoming an unfortunate concern to her now- and starvation considering the lack of incoming calories. Mirosława grimaced at the situation as she stretched, having long since become used to the sensation of the air on her skin where clothes should cover. She knew her situation was precarious at best, deadly at worst. A source of water still elud-

_Crack!_

Mirosława’s head shot up in the direction of the sound, tensing as she froze mid-stretch. That sounded...big. And close. Bear? Whatever it was, there was no way she was sticking around to find out if it was friendly. Time to go in the opposite direction, far, far away. And that, was when she turned only to be confronted by two bows straight in her face. She froze. They froze. Everyone froze- except the birds. Mirosława would fiercely deny that she ever made a noise that sounded much like a distressed dog before staring between the two strangers with wide-eyes. Bows. They had bows, she would deal with that. She could even deal with having said bows primed and ready at her. What she couldn’t quite process, or perhaps didn’t want to, was the fact that in front of her were two people who looked very much like Dalish elves from Dragon Age. 

“Uh...nice cosplay?” 

She laughed awkwardly.

To her dismay, they didn’t laugh back.


	3. Of Panic Attacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirosława learns that language barriers are a thing, and that Polish names never cease to confuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, the motivation to continue writing this instead of thinking it comes from a lack of sleep, and ear aches. I have so many plots and plans...yet so little energy to write them out.

### Of Panic Attacks

##### And language barriers.

One would think standing around naked in a forest, clearly unarmed or otherwise prepared, would garner a little sympathy. Mirosława wasn’t sure she should applaud their dedication to accuracy, or worry that their body language stayed distinctly antagonistic. “ᚹᚺᚤ ᛞᛟ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛏᚱᛖᛋᛈᚨᛋᛋ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ, _Shem?_ ” The one to her left, a male with dark hair demanded with a sharp gesture of his bow, shattering the moment of tension and awkward silence. Mirosława grimaced, darting her eyes between the two rapidly before opting to put her hands up in surrender a moment before crossing them across her exposed chest. “I, uh, only understood one word of that, unfortunately. I suppose it’s too much to expect you to know English- because of course not.” And now she was babbling, unable to help the awkward giggle that burst from her chest. “Being able to converse with words would be too easy, no matter that I’m already lost, naked, and missing m-memories.” Oh- that was a hiccup. It occurred to her then, rather abruptly, that she was balanced on the cusp of a panic attack. Her eyes burned painfully with unshed tears and her hands, now that she focused on them, trembled when she took them off her arms. “S-shit, God, okay.” Mirosława gasped for air, focusing her gaze away from the spooky elves with bows and onto a nice, peaceful piece of dirt. “I need-” Breathe. In and hold, and out. “A moment, yeah. Then we can call each other shems, and you can maybe not shoot me full of arrows.” Her breath hitched again as she hyperventilated. Do not cry. Do not cry, Mirosława!

She did not cry. Though that was a near thing, and apparently a great motivator for the two elves to put away their bows at some point. “ᚹᛖ ᛋᚺᚨᛚᛚ ᛏᚨᚴᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛏᛟ ᛟᚢᚱ ᚲᚨᛗᛈ, ᛏᚺᛖ ᚴᛖᛖᛈᛖᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚴᚾᛟᚹ ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᛏᛟ ᛞᛟ.” It was the female of the two that decided to approach her first, face surprisingly open as the blonde spoke softly to her. “ᛗᚤ ᚾᚨᛗᛖ ᛁᛋ ᛚᚤᚾᚨ.” She tapped her chest, even as she moved forward to touch Mirosława’s shoulders in the way one would approach a startled animal. “Ly-na.” Well, at least it was better than arrows. Or any number of really awful things, now that she thought about it. Okay, she could see why the woman would move that way now. Naked and alone in a forest wasn’t exactly conducive to being _safe_. Mirosława promptly shoved her paranoia aside and down. Coping, it was a thing. She would accept the pretty blonde elf’s help, hope it didn’t lead her to a freaky cult, and/or death, then find a moment to process the craziness her life just turned into. “Lyna.” The blonde elf tapped her chest again, then pointed to her companion(Who honestly, looked like he ate something sour.) and introduced him as ‘Tamlen’ before pointing back at her. Mira was not proud of the fact it took her mind a minute to understand the gesture. “Oh! Uh- Mirosława.” She introduced slowly, lips twitching upwards at both of their slightly bewildered expressions. Lyna seemed to attempt it first, mouth awkwardly moving around the syllables- just missing the mark each time she said it. Ah, the joys of Polish names. “Mi-ra.” She said simply after a moment, tapping her chest in a re-introduction. 

She would be hard pressed to deny the amused smile that curled her lips when both of them looked rather relieved. “Mira.” Lyna greeted with both a nod, and a smile of her own. Tamlen scoffed at them, and muttered something that had to do with shems.

 

Mira decided to ignore him.

**Author's Note:**

> Mirosława- mee-raw-SWA-va  
> Comes from the elements miro 'peace' and sław 'glory, fame', thus loosely a person who loves peace, or someone who achieves fame by establishing peace. Jokes on her.


End file.
